


Snow Day

by DaniKin



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Babies, Childhood, F/M, Parent-Child Relationship, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniKin/pseuds/DaniKin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slice-of-life look at an average Saturday with one-year-old Megamind in which several things happen -- including finger painting with breakfast foods, fast-paced chases, wet shoes, and the warden taking him out to play in the snow for the first time.   </p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

So this was an idea I had for a chapter in Fathers and Sons, but it just didn’t fit with the narrative structure I wanted for that story. Then the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone, especially as I started writing some of the more difficult chapters of that fic.   I have found that I really loved writing Baby Megs exploring the world, especially when I needed a break from the *angstangstangst*.   

So I’m throwing it out here as a one shot.   It’s set in the same world as Fathers and Sons (between the events of Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 if you want to be precise), but you don’t need to read that series to get it.    

Title: Snow Day  
Characters : The Warden and Baby!Megamind  
Rating : PG  
Summary : A slice-of-life look at an average Saturday with one-year-old Megamind in which several things happen -- including finger painting with breakfast foods, fast-paced chases, wet shoes, and the warden taking him out to play in the snow for the first time.   

Beta: [](http://sharelle.livejournal.com/profile)[**sharelle**](http://sharelle.livejournal.com/) , oh the lovely and talented sharelle.   This story would be poorer without her intelligence and attention :)

  


  
~~~~~~~~~ M ~~~~~~~~  
  
He was awakened by the loud, sing-songy noises of an awake baby.    
  
“Wahda.   Wahda.   Play time, wahda.   Wake up, wahda!   Up, up, up!  Minion says up!”  
  
The warden cracked an eye open just in time to see the excitable, blue almost-one-year-old on the other side of his office pick up the ball containing a fish and chuck it out of his crib.   He did it with a sly little grin too, as though he had some kind of diabolical plan afoot.     
  
“Wahda!   Up!   Up!  I need my Minion!”  He was jumping now.   Oh, lord.   The warden checked his watch.   6:32.  Of course.  Of course it wasn’t even seven o’clock on a Saturday.   Sleeping in?  What was that?     
  
He pulled himself into a sitting position and huffed at the boy from his place on the couch.     
  
“Good morning, Blue.”  
  
“Up!   Yey!”  The boy clapped his hands.   “Play time now?   I need Minion!” he reached in the direction of the fish on the floor.  The warden rolled his eyes at the kid.  Manipulative little bugger had a stubborn steak a mile wide.      
  
“Wahda!   I need my minion!” the baby continued to call.      
  
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled over to the crib, and hoping the boy would go down for a long nap this afternoon so maybe he could catch up on some of his sleep, too.   He picked up the baby and he squirmed in the mans arms, reaching towards the floor.  But as soon as the warden got close he could tell that the kid desperately needed a diaper change.   Ugh.  Desperately.     
  
And getting him to stay still long enough to change him was an endurance trial.  When the excitable blue boy wanted to be active nothing would stop him from trying to wiggle out of the warden’s grasp.   And now, as he reached and strained for his minion, he clearly wanted to be playing.    _Oh this is already a fun morning_ , the warden thought sarcastically, stifling a yawn.    
  
The warden grabbed a clean diaper, some wipes, and a changing pad and sat down on the floor with the baby.    The boy did not want to be still at all.  He was wiggling constantly as the warden got him out of his sleeper, then it only got worse when he lay the boy down.  The boy whined, highly resentful of being placed on his back when he wanted to play.      
  
But there was a trick to it.  You had to hold him down by pressing on his chest a bit, which the child hated, but which wouldn’t actually make him cry for at least a good 25 seconds.  Then you had to get the diaper off, mostly one-handed, before switching hands to get the clean one on.   It was all a matter of timing.  
  
The warden managed to get the child to lie still enough to get the dirty diaper off.  Holy hell.   That was an insane amount of poop to come from one little baby that barely weighed sixteen pounds.     
  
He got the boy cleaned up and managed to get a clean diaper half on, when the boy moved from wiggling and fussing to crying and kicking.  He did not want to be held down a minute longer.   The warden struggled to get the last side of the diaper taped up as quickly as he could, before finally allowing the boy to worm out of his grasp.     
  
The child rolled onto his stomach and easily pushed himself into a crawling position as he looked around for his fishy friend.  Once he had the ball in his gaze, he got up on two legs and took off at a full run to chase the fish ball around the office.    
  
Oh the fish zoomed and zigged and zagged, but the boy was faster and eventually caught him in his arms with an excited laugh.    Then the boy threw him across the room and the game started all over again.  Blue was clearly happy to run around in just his diaper and the warden smiled and shook his head.  Hell if he knew where that kid got so much energy.     
  
He rifled through some file cabinet drawers and found some clothes for the boy: a sweatshirt and pants, a clean onesie, and his favorite socks.    He grabbed the boy mid-chase, and was able to get him into the onesie before he lost his grip to the constant squirming.   The boy resumed chasing the fish and the warden lunged after him again.   This time he was able to get him into the pants.    Well, that was good enough for now.     
  
The warden watched, letting the boy play the chasing game for a few more minutes.  There was no point in trying to give him breakfast now anyway.  All he would do is fuss in his high chair because he would rather be running around.   But eventually the boy plopped down with his fish ball, happily squeezing it in his little arms.   The warden saw his moment and took it.    
  
“Hey, Blue.  Time for breakfast, kiddo.” He scooped up the both of them and headed towards the small break room in the admin area.     
  
“Time for bahbah?” the boy inquired.  
  
“No.   You’re too big for bottles.   We’re having some nice oatmeal for breakfast.   And use your words.” The baby made a frowny face but he didn’t fuss.   The boy had an impressive vocabulary but he was stubbornly sticking to baby talk with certain familiar phrases.    
  
And he still asked for his bottle every single morning and every morning the warden had to tell him it wasn’t happening.   Was that supposed to be a sign?   Yes, the kid was developmentally advanced compared to a normal human child, but he still acted like a little baby sometimes.  It was hard for the warden to know when he should coddle him and when he should push him.    There were no lists of dos and don’ts or developmental charts for raising a blue alien baby.     
  
He strapped the kid into his high chair, though in all honesty, it was mostly just for show.  If the baby wanted out he would just unclip himself.  He had been doing that since he was three months old. However the boy seemed content to just sit and babble to his little fish while the warden put the socks on his tiny blue feet.   The warden smirked.   The socks had tiny spaceships on them.  
  
He started coffee and the boy’s breakfast.   When the microwave oatmeal was done, the warden gave it to him with a plastic spoon.   The baby had no patience for being fed anymore.   Which was fine by him.  Blue finally had all this teeth in, thank god, and the fine motor skills of a three year old.   He gripped the spoon in his hand and shoveled some oatmeal in the general direction of his mouth.     
  
Most of it ended up all over his face.   The boy smiled and made a little squeal as he stuck the other  hand in the bowl.  Then he used the spoon to shovel the next bite neatly into his mouth.  He was more than capable of feeding himself, he just seemed to enjoy making a giant mess.   The warden knew from experience that only a third of the bowl would actually end up in the boy’s mouth.    
  
 _Trouble_ , the warden thought as he sat down with his coffee.   _That kid is trouble_.     
  
Now the boy seemed to be finger-painting with it.  The warden had to laugh to himself.  Watching him was just plain entertaining at times.   The kid showed such joy at learning and loved trying new things.    
  
But not yogurt.   No, no, not yogurt.   Last week the warden had given him yogurt and even though the boy seemed to enjoy it, he was vomiting everywhere within twenty minutes and sick miserable crank all day.     
  
“Done!  I’m all done!” the boy announced, and the warden looked up to see his face was thoroughly covered in oatmeal.  The baby giggled.  The warden couldn’t help but smile at the kid even though he was a mess.  Then he put the dishes in the sink and gave the baby’s face a cursory rub with a paper towel before picking him up and hauling him back to the office to clean him up properly.     
  
The warden was scrubbing the last of the oatmeal out of the boy’s eyebrows when there was a knock on the door.     
  
“Hey, warden?” The door opened cautiously and a guard stood holding a pair of shopping bags.   “I got some stuff for Blue if you want to go through it."  
  
“Thanks, Gerry.   Just set it by the door?” the warden replied and the man nodded.   Gerry had kids a little older than Blue, so sometimes he would bring the boy hand-me-downs.   Once the boy was clean, the warden set him up with his dinosaur toys and rummaged through the bags.    
  
Some sleepers, some onesies.   A pair of jeans that had potential.   A little orange sweater.   The kid would like that.  For some reason he loved orange clothes.  It was weird.   Nearest the warden could tell the boy wanted to dress like the rest of the prisoners.    
The other bag seemed to be full of outerwear.   A pair of little green boots with dinosaurs on the side, clearly worn but not worn out.   Some mittens and a light denim coat.   Eh, that might still fit the kid in the spring but now it was clearly too cold for such thin clothing.   A couple hats.  The warden frowned.   That boy and hats were trouble.   Most of these looked too small for his large head, but one of them might work.     
  
At the very bottom was some kind of puffy red coat, but the warden didn’t realize what it was until he pulled it all the way out of the bag.   He studied the little red snow suit.   It would probably fit the kid.     
  
Should he take him outside?  It was pretty cold out there.   But the snow was falling slowly outside his window and he wondered.....  
  
Blue loved to run around outside, but the warden had stopped bringing the kid out when the snow started to fall a few weeks ago.  He was so small and the warden was always worried about him getting sick.   Last year he had brought Blue to the doorway a few times to see the snow, wrapped up in blankets and never letting him out of his arms.     
  
But this did seem like a good snowsuit.    
  
What the hell.  He could at least see if it fit.   He put the boy into the orange sweater, which predictably made the kid happy.  Then he held out the snowsuit and the boy examined it quizzically.   The warden put the boy’s legs through the pants portion and stood him up, then threaded his arms though and zipped him in.   It definitely fit.  
  
Blue stood there staring up at him.  The thing was so puffy that he couldn’t quite put his arms down.  Not that it stopped him from trying, as he flopped them up and down experimentally.  The warden had to laugh.  He looked like a red and blue puffy bird trying to take off.     
  
Next the boy experimented with walking in the snowsuit, the bulk between his legs clearly throwing off his balance.  He wobbled around, trying to get his footing.  Next the warden put the hand-me-down boots on his feet - which made him even more unsteady - then the mittens.  Finally, he squeezed the biggest hat in the bag onto the child’s blue head.  It was a little tight but it worked, and the warden tied it tightly under the boy’s chin.  He flicked the little pompom on top of the hat with a smirk.   The boy was bundled up to high heaven and looked completely confused.    
  
Finally the warden put on his own coat and picked the kid up, taking him out the entrance that led to the prison yard.     
  
The familiar environment was completely blanketed in a fresh layer of fluffy white stuff.   The warden balanced the baby on his hip as the child took in the sight of the snow-covered ground.   The boy’s eyes were wide and inquisitive as he blinked at the brightness.    
  
“This is snow.  Can you say that?  Can you say snow?” the warden coaxed.    
  
“Sooo?” The boy fumbled to say the word.     
  
“Snow,” he repeated  
  
“Ssss-no?” the boy tried again.     
  
“Close.  Snow.”  
  
“Sssnow.”  
  
“There you go!” The warden smiled proudly.     
  
“Ssnow.   Snow.”   The boy was practicing his new word as the warden set him down.  The boy took a few tentative steps through the fluffiness, becoming more confident.      
  
“Snow.  Snow.  Snowsnow.   Snow.  Snow, snow, snow.”  The child was babbling and singing to himself.   He kept repeating the word and the warden knew from experience that he would probably be repeating it for days.  When the boy learned something new he had a tendency to become obsessed.  Now he was running in circles through the stuff, repeating ‘snow’ over and over again in his own giddy euphoria.     
  
Suddenly he stopped and looked back at all the little footprints he had made.   He stared up at the warden in confusion.  He took a step, then turned around, looked at the ground, then back up at the warden with his mouth gaping open.     
  
“Yeah, that’s you, kiddo.   Those are your footprints,” the warden said with a chuckle.  The boy looked from side to side.   Then gingerly he stretched one foot out into the virgin snow in front of him, stepped slightly, and quickly pulled it back.  He shrieked then took a long moment to study the footprint in wondrous fascination.    The warden put his cold hands in his pockets with a smile as he watched the boy ponder the deep mysteries of footprints.    
  
When the boy resumed running, he made a beeline for the fence, wandering off where the drifts got deeper.   Still the boy stubbornly waddled and wibbled in the puffy snowsuit, the depth of the snow clearly throwing off his balance as he zoomed around the yard.     
  
And the warden saw it a second before it happened.  One moment the boy was running and then suddenly his feet were out from under him as he pitched forward, face-planting into the snow-covered ground.  
  
His cries were sharp and loud, and the warden rushed over to the little boy and scooped him up in his arms.   The kid was wailing at the top of his lungs and tried to bury his screaming face in the warden’s wool coat.    The warden managed to pull him back for just a moment so he could look at him.   Small icy droplets of water and snow clung to his crying face, and he balanced wailing boy on one arm so he could use his other hand.  He rubbed his large hand over the little boy’s cheeks, clearing the moisture from the snow along with his tears.   The boy continued to wail, begging out “Wahda, Wahda,” over and over again amongst the cries even after he was cleaned up.     
  
“Shhhh shhhh, it’s ok.  You’re fine.”   The warden patted the back of the snowsuit gently and bounced him.   “You’re fine, Blue, you’re just fine,” he said with a smile.   The boy stopped shrieking but he whined as tears continued to fall.    
  
“Hey, let's make a snow angel!   You wanna make a snow angel, don’t you, kiddo?” he said, trying to distract the boy from his tears.   The boy continued to sniffle but the warden knew he could probably get him excited about learning a new activity.    
  
“Come here,” the warden walked over to a patch of snow unmarred by footprints.   “Now I’m going to put you down, and you’re gonna lay there and move your arms and feet okay?”  
  
He set the baby down on his back and the boy looked up at him confused.  For a moment he looked like he might begin to cry harder.   The warden quickly mimicked the motion the boy was to make, feeling a bit of a fool as he jumped around in an overgrown jumping jack.   At least the sight was funny enough to make the boy stop crying and start laughing instead.     
  
“Silly!   Silly Wahda!  You’re silly!” his voice punctuated between giggles.     
  
“I’m silly?” the warden responded with exaggerated gruffness.   “Can you do that?  Can you do that for me?”  
  
The little boy tried, mostly just flailing and kicking for a minute, but then he started to get the motion down.  And soon he had made a nice imprint.   The warden lifted him up and turned him around in his arms so Blue could see what he had done.  
  
“There you go.   That’s a snow angel.  Pretty neat, huh kiddo?”  
  
The boy studied it and then burst into petals of laughter.  
  
“Footprint,” he pointed proudly.     
  
The warden chuckled.   “Not quite, but close.”     
  
Damn, this kid was smart.   The warden didn’t know much about human babies, but it didn’t seem like he should be able to do that at this age.   Smart kid.   His smart kid, he thought with pride.      
  
The boy continued to investigate the snow angel for a moment, but then went right back to tottering around the yard.    The warden watched him carefully this time, especially as he once again approached the deep drifts near the fence.     
  
This time Blue walked slowly through the tall snow, seeming to study the way it restricted his movements and compensating by lifting his feet higher with every step.    At one point he wobbled like he might fall again, and the warden tensed.   But the boy righted himself, then beamed back at the warden, proud of having thwarted his wintery nemesis.    
  
Eventually he toddled back to where the warden stood and started trying to pick the snow up in his mitten-covered hands.   The warden smiled at the kid.   He knelt down next to the boy and grabbed a big handful of snow in his bare hands.   Blue cocked his head as he packed it into a tight ball and held it out to the baby.  
  
“This is a snowball.  Do you want to hold it?”  The boy grabbed for it and held it between two hands, studying the object.  He tried to lick it but the warden shook his head no.   Then the boy threw it on the ground and it exploded.   He shrieked excitedly then looked up at the warden.    
  
“More snowball?  Another snowball?   Snowball for me, Wahda?” he begged and the warden made him a few more snowballs and let him throw them around.    He let the boy run and run, flopping over in the snow with giggles and making some truly odd lumpy sideways snow angels, until his natural energy seemed to wear down.   The warden glanced at this watch.   They had been out here for a long time and his fingers were freezing.    
  
“Hey, Blue.  Time to go inside,” he called to the boy that was squatting and pushing his mitten-covered hands into the snow.   The child ignored him.     
  
“Blue.   Get over here.   We’re going inside,” he walked towards the boy and was about to pick him up when the baby flashed a wicked grin and took off.     
  
“Catch me!  Catch me, Wahda!”     
  
He sighed but was left with no choice except to run after the little boy as he waddled in his snowsuit. The warden was not wearing the right footwear for this and soon his shoes were full of snow that he knew would leave him in soaking socks.   But it didn’t take long before he was able to grab the baby.   He was planning to lecture him for not listening, but the boy gave a happy shriek as he was picked up and then wrapped his puffy arms around the warden’s neck.      
  
“Yey!   You caught me, Wahda.”  Then the boy kissed him on the cheek.     
  
Well.   Damn.  He couldn’t be angry anymore.    He gave the boy a begrudging smile and glared.   That only made the boy giggle more.    So he lifted the kid up and sat him on his shoulders, holding him by his puffy legs as they went back inside.    Blue tried to grab his hair but his soggy mittens prevented him from getting a good grip.  The warden was sure that his hair probably looked ridiculous right now, but he paid it no mind.  
  
Once they were inside, he peeled the layers off the little boy.  The warden frowned.  He looked a little pale.  Maybe that was too much outside.   He was acting fine though.  Maybe he was just worrying about nothing.   But he was never sure what was nothing and what was something.      
  
He sighed and willed himself to stop fretting.   The boy was fine.  He didn’t need to hover over him like a mother hen.   And now that the baby was back in his regular clothes, he set him up with some crackers and his toys.   As usual, the first toy he reached for was his little minion fish.     
  
The warden left him sitting there while he grabbed a sandwich from the vending machine in the break room.  And he stopped off at the bathroom to smooth down his hair. Yes, he was practically living here with the boy now, but he still had to maintain some semblance of professionalism.  He headed back to the office with his sandwich, noting the way his shoes squished against the cheap institutional carpet.  
  
When he walked in, the boy was laying on the floor, waving his arms and legs as though he was making a snow angel on the carpet.   The warden couldn’t help but let out a snorting laugh.   The boy was laughing now too and reaching for his fish.   Then the warden watched as he lay on the floor and told his little friend all about the snow.     
  
The warden’s search of the office yielded a spare pair of shoes, but no dry clean socks.   Hrm, he was going to have to go home.   He scooped up the boy, leaving his toys on the floor and headed out of admin.  
  
He squished in his shoes as he took the baby down to the bowels of the prison itself.  Guards at the various security checkpoints waved at Blue since, as absurd as it may have sounded, seeing an alien baby was an everyday occurrence inside this particular correctional facility.  Meanwhile, the baby simply looked around, regarding prison bars and alarmed security doors as a completely normal part of life.     
  
The warden stopped off in a common room where prisoners who demonstrated good behavior were given TV time.   And he located a familiar man with a large Celtic cross tattoo on one shoulder.     
  
“Hey, Caldero?”   The man looked up from the TV.    
  
“Hey, warden.   How’s the kid today?” the guy asked nonchalantly.    
  
“Pretty well worn out.  Would you mind watching him for a few hours?” the warden asked, already handing him over to the burly con.    
  
“Sure.  I’ll take him by the chess guys.  They’re trying to teach him to be the world's youngest grandmaster.”  The large man took the baby easily out of the warden’s arms and gave Blue a big smile.     
  
“He might need a diaper change, if not now than before I get back.  Sorry,” the warden offered apologetically.   Caldero just shrugged, paying more attention to the kid in his arms than the instructions from his caregiver.    
  
Using a bunch of convicts as babysitters might have seemed crazy to an outsider, but the warden was exceptionally careful who he let near the boy.  This was a minimum security facility that specialized in rehabilitation, but there was still a dangerous element.   But most of the guys here weren’t evil, just too damn smart for their own good.     
  
And Ricky Caldero looked like he could break a man’s face into a thousand pieces, but he was in here for wire fraud.   As long as you kept that man far away from a computer, Blue would be safe as houses in his care.     
  
So the warden went home.   It was funny how rarely he went to there now, to the tiny impersonal apartment.  But it wasn’t all bad.  
  
He showered and got himself a fresh change of clothes, including a couple pairs of socks that were not soaking wet.   He shaved and put a load of laundry in the wash, then sat down with a beer and watched some TV until it was time to put it in the dryer.     
  
 _It was nice to have the guys take the boy for a few hours_ , he mused.   It was nice to have a bit of a normal life back.  But as soon as the laundry was done, he got back into his coat and drove right back to the prison.      
  
He found the little boy in the cafeteria, sitting on another prisoner's lap with ketchup all over his mouth and chin.   Caldero was trying to wipe it off his face.   The boy was dodging it as though it was a game and squealing.     
  
“Wahda!   French fries, Wahda!” the boy beamed and reached his arms up for him.   The burly con used the baby’s distraction to get the last globs of ketchup off his face.      
  
“Thanks, Rick,” the warden said gratefully, pulling the boy up into his arms.   The little blue boy giggled and kicked a bit, but the warden kept a tight grip on him.     
  
“It’s no thing man,” Caldero replied with a nod and scuffed the boy on his head affectionately before the warden took the boy and left.      
  
As the pair headed back up to the office, he noticed the little boy was suspiciously quiet.  Then Blue yawned and the warden hoped that was a sign that he would take a nap soon.   After a quick diaper check, the warden set him up with his little fish and some of his blocks and trucks in the office.   The boy seemed to have fun creating little obstacle courses and having the truck demolish them, as well as using the vehicle to chase the fish around.      
  
He sat back on the couch and grabbed a stack of discipline reports he had been meaning to read through.   He read, writing himself some notes on a yellow legal pad.  The boy played, occasionally bringing him toys to show him, but mostly the child entertained himself.   That was nice.   The warden knew that he had lucked out; the kid was so well behaved.     
  
“Bahbah?”  
  
Now the boy was standing in front of the warden, clutching his fish and staring up at him with hopeful eyes.    
  
“No, we’re done with bottles, Blue,” he replied sternly.   “You don’t need a bottle.  You have big kid food now.”  
  
The boy pouted at him and gave him a puppy dog look with his big emerald eyes.   “Pllleeeese?  I want a bahbah.”      
  
“No.”  
  
The boy started to keen and let out little whimpering cries, still staring up at the warden.     
  
The warden looked at him and sighed.   He could not, for the life of him, figure out why the kid refused to let go of his bottles.   He had been apathetic towards them for weeks before they were taken away. Now he was always anxiously asking for them.     
  
He looked down at the boy, who reached up and pulled on his pants leg and begged “Bahbah?” again in a fussy tone.      
  
"Come 'ere, kiddo," he said as he pulled the baby into his lap and tried to distract him by putting a pen in his hand and letting him scribble all over the legal pad.  But the boy was not having it and he moved from fussing to actual crying as he wiggled angrily.   His face was starting to flush a deep purple.   That was never good.  
  
The warden frowned.   He knew he had a limited window in which to make a choice.  Give the kid what he seemed to need and possibly get the kid down for a reasonable nap, or stand firm and put up with his overtired theatrics all night because it would be good for him in the long run.  He hated moments like this.  Moments when he had no idea what to do.  It was a crapshoot.   
  
He stared down at the wailing whining child in his arms.  Someday he would be too big to be held and bottle fed.   Maybe, a little voice said, he should let the boy have these moments while he wanted them.  

“Okay kiddo, you can have a bottle,” the warden finally said begrudgingly. The boy stopped wailing instantly and looked up at him with such relief in his eyes.  
  
He took the calming boy on his hip and lead him into the break room, where he heated up half a bottle. The child snuggled his little body close and tried to reach for it before it was ready, but the warden held him off.   And the boy began to let out little unhappy whines as he headed back to the office.      
  
Finally the warden grabbed his little green blanket from his crib and settled down on the couch.  He cradled the child in his arms.     
  
“Here, little boy.  You hungry?” he held the bottle towards him.   The boy fussed and reached for it.  Soon he was enjoying his bottle, holding it himself and curling his toes up the way he did when he was relaxed and content.    
  
 _Stubborn little troublemaker_ , he thought affectionately as he adjusted the baby to a comfortable position in his arms, leaning against his chest.     
  
The warden wished he had the willpower to be a stricter disciplinarian, but he was such a sucker whenever the boy looked unhappy.   Did he really want to fight with him every single day about bottles? He could pretend that he knew what was best for him, but really it had all been a guess.   The warden figured it was time to guess again and just let the boy have them until he was really ready to give them up.    
  
Because the kid was just so goddamn determined.   It didn’t matter if it was bottles or snow drifts or whatever.   He was a scrappy little thing.   That was good, right?    The warden figured he would need that.    
  
“You had a big day in the snow, didn’t you, Blue?  Yes, you did.  Next time we’ll teach you how to make a snow man.   Yeah, that will be fun.   You like to build things.”  He chatted and stroked the boys side as he ate enthusiastically.    
  
The warden watched the kid, happily sucking and curled against him.      
  
Was it almost a year ago that he had come?  Some days it seemed like forever – time spent on dirty diapers and workdays run on little or no sleep.   Other times it seemed like a flash.  Now the boy was walking and running and talking in complete sentences most of the time.  
  
The warden mused on the irony as he watched his boy eat.   
  
He never had a strong desire for children.   His ex-wife had wanted them.  In fact, he had heard that she was pregnant now with her new husband.   But the warden had always assumed that, if he ever did have kids, it would only be because that’s what people did, not because he had any genuine affection for the idea of child-rearing.  
  
But now that he had this boy, he couldn’t imagine ever giving him up.   He had done a good job of keeping him hidden here and he had finally stopped searching the skies every day for an space ship that might come to take him home.   Taking care of the blue boy had stopped feeling temporary.  He had started thinking of the baby not just as his responsibility, but as _his_.  
  
The warden had even stopped noticing the boy’s blue skin.   Well, not stopped noticing per se, but he had stopped noticing it as something unusual.   It was just the way the boy was.   And now he was a very happy blue baby.  The warden could hear the contented little purrs coming off him when he exhaled.     
  
Ok, so most babies didn’t purr, but most babies weren’t blue alien geniuses.  The warden pulled his blanket over him, hoping to lure the boy down into a nap.     
  
And the warden felt pretty damn good about himself today.  He had given the boy his first experience with snow and he seemed to really like it.  He owed Gerry an extra thank you for the snowsuit next time he saw him.   So he rhythmically stroked the child’s head as Blue continued to suck blissfully on his bottle.  
  
The warden wasn't a stupid man. He knew he was probably falling in love with this kid – God with an alien baby no less.   He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it had happened but he had never felt anything like it before.  Yes, the boy wasn't really his, but reminding himself of that didn't make the feeling go away.  So instead he just stopped fighting it for a while and happily watched his small blue boy snuggle warm and sleepy in his arms.  
  
The bottle was still in his mouth, but his bright green eyes stubbornly refused to stay open.       
  
“Yeah, kiddo, it’s nap time.  That’s a good boy,” he said soothingly.     
  
He shifted the boy in his arms and the bottle slipped free.   The warden caught it before it rolled away and lifted the drowsy baby onto his shoulder, burping him even though he didn’t really need it any more.   _Force of habit,_ he guessed, and he took a moment to hold him close.   Already there was no denying his little boy was getting so big.     
  
Then he settled the baby into his crib, tucked his fish ball close by, and covered him with his little green blanket.   When the baby fussed at being set down, the warden fished around in the crib for his secret weapon -- the glowing blue binkey that had come with the boy to this planet.   As soon as Blue had the binkey in his mouth and sucked, he settled down without another peep.   Still, the warden stood over the crib, stroking his head until he was sure the little one was completely asleep.  
  
So this was what it was going to be then.    
  
Not even a year old and so easy to love.  He was already so smart, and the warden wondered how that determined streak would play out as he grew.   He couldn’t imagine that the teen years would be fun.   
  
But the warden felt his own swell of determination.   He could already imagine all the wonderful things this kid might be able to do someday.    So he would keep him here, keep him safe, and do the best he could to be a good parent to the boy.   _To be just like a good father_ , something within him whispered.  
  
Then he ran his hand protectively over his baby’s forehead one last time.     
  
 _This boy is destined for something really great_ , he thought as he watched his child sleep.  

  



End file.
